in other words, hold my hand
by Melika Elena
Summary: As a child her father told her stories of the Man in the Moon, who listened to pleas and granted wishes. Elsa makes a wish and is given everything she never knew she wanted.


**in other words, hold my hand**

**1. **

There was a man in the moon.

There was a man in the moon, her father would say as he came to tuck her in at night, his hands carefully wrapping the cool sheets around his cold little daughter, who breathed in air and breathed out frost.

He was punished for terrible wrongdoings, her father explained, and his sentence was to forever circle the Earth—always seeing it, but never living amongst others. He was known as the Wanderer, and he knew no peace while circling Earth. He made the moon his home, his exile, and he soon discovered, this Wanderer, that when the light hit the moon just right, the people on Earth could see his profile etched into the moon itself—and thus, the legend was born.

The Wanderer found that he could hear people who would speak to him, make wishes in the name of the moon, and he, who had long repented for his sins, though his exile was permanent, would sometimes talk to them in return, or simply make their wishes come true.

The Wanderer soon decided that it would be his mission to be something of a guardian to the people of Earth and he would protect them—and since he could not touch the Earth, he would choose others on Earth to protect it in his stead. And thus, the Wanderer, now a man with a purpose, stayed right where he was, and simply became the Man in the Moon.

"If I wished to the Man in the Moon," Elsa would say, clinging to her father's hand, and he, even if his fingers were numb with cold, would let her, "do you think he could—he could help me?"

Her father, a handsome man with sad eyes, squeezed her hands. "I don't know, Elsa," he said gently, not wanting to give her false hope. "But I know this—he will always listen to your troubles, even if he does not respond."

Elsa looked slightly disheartened by this, until her father kissed her forehead, which had never known fever, and said, "And I will always listen, too, my dear."

Elsa threw her arms around him. "I love you, Papa."

"And I love you, too, Elsa," he said, wrapping his arms around her frigid little body, trying not to shed tears, trying not to shiver with her cold.

Later that night, not able to sleep, Elsa pushed back the carefully tucked covers and sat at her windowsill, trying to speak to the Man in the Moon.

"I wish I didn't have this curse," Elsa said, pleading to the moon, though it only showed half of itself that night. "I don't want to hurt people, like I hurt Anna. I want to be normal. I want to be free."

And so it went. During the days Elsa minded her tutors, the few who dared to teach her and were sworn to utmost secrecy, and fended off Anna's innocent, lonely calls for her to play, while nights were spent confiding to the Man in the Moon, pleading for him to help her control her ever-growing powers.

One night, the moon was new and Elsa couldn't see it at all. She had grown used to its phases, to its fullness and its crescent, but this was the first new moon since she started speaking to the Man in the Moon and she was bitterly disappointed at her friend's absence. Nevertheless, though she could not see it, she spoke to it anyway, simply saying: "I wish I wasn't alone."

And as he did every night, the Man in the Moon heard her pleas and listened. However, this time was different than the others—because tonight, he responded.

**2. **

When Elsa was asleep, the frost and ice subsided. Free in her dreams, the world around her was at peace as well. Tonight, however, was different—a beautiful pattern of lace and frost adorned her beloved French windows, and the windows themselves, overcome with the beauty, shuddered once, twice, and let the latch fall open, a clear, cold winter's wind easing through the small gap until the windows flung open.

The little girl huddled in the big bed, used to the cold, didn't notice this intrusion, and was completely unaware of the menacing shadow, with its long staff and slim, toned limbs, coming towards her.

"Elsa," the shadow whispered. "Elsa, wake up."

The little girl stirred. "Not now, Anna," she murmured. "Snow man tomorrow."

The shadow chuckled. "While that's a fantastic idea," it said, "it's the middle of summer and I have the sneaking suspicion that people would be quite upset at the thought of the town suddenly being turned into a winter wonderland."

Elsa, now fully awake, stiffened under her covers. This wasn't Anna—this was a boy, a man, nearly, his voice tinged low, but still suffused with a boyish carelessness.

"I know you're awake, Elsa," said the voice, amusement and gentleness in its tone. "I won't hurt you." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm like you." He reached out, and on her wall, the one she was staring at resolutely in fear, made a pattern, an elaborate snowflake with his frost, and in the middle he wrote, "My name is Jack Frost."

Elsa, her eyes widening in fear, sat up and faced the intruder. Perched on the end of her bed, staff in hand, was a boy.

He was on the cusp of manhood, perhaps a good ten years older than her eight years, and though his jaw was well-defined, his crystal blue eyes had such a glint of playfulness in them it was hard to believe he was so much older. His limbs, long and toned and thin like a colt's, were clad in thin brown pants, too small for him, and his feet were bare. He was cold personified, his hair a blond even whiter than her own, his skin so fair it was nearly translucent, but his eyes were all warmth.

"How—how do you know my name?" Stuttered Elsa, still undecided if she should scream out in alarm. "How did you find me?"

Jack scratched his head, twisting his lips as he thought. "That is a good question," he conceded, "and I don't really know _how _I know all of this other than the Man in the Moon showed me."

Elsa crawled toward him, excited. "The Man in the Moon?" She asked excitedly. "I talk to him all the time!" She leaned back on her legs, tucking them beneath her. "Wow," she breathed. "I can't believe he actually made my wish come true!"

Jack looked at her, surprised. "I didn't realize you knew about the Man in the Moon," he said, slowly, "Children are usually only aware of the Guardians, not the Man himself."

Elsa cocked her head. Odd—she had never heard of any 'Guardians', but only of the Man in the Moon. "My father told me the story of the Man in the Moon," she said, "I assumed everyone knew it."

Jack frowned, shaking his head. "No child I've ever encountered has heard of him," he said, "and I've travelled all over."

"Have you?" Elsa clapped her hands together. "Will you—will you tell me all about it?" She asked. "I haven't left here in so long."

Jack looked at her sharply. "Your parents keep you locked up here?"

Elsa bit her lip and looked down, wondering if she said the wrong thing. "To keep me safe," she said, "because I can't control my powers."

Jack's expression was fierce for a moment, but then it softened at her unease. "I can help you with that," he said, "if you let me."

"Really?" Elsa said, her big blue eyes lighting up.

"Of course," Jack said firmly. "I think that's why the Man in the Moon sent me here—to help you."

Elsa, for the first time since she was restricted to the castle and separated from Anna, felt hope.

**3. **

Jack had a vastly different motto than her parents when it came to understanding her powers, and that was to use them and practice with them as often as possible. At first, it was difficult trying to undo everything her parents had told her concerning her powers.

"Conceal, don't feel," Elsa explained to him of their motto.

Jack scowled. "That's a terrible way to go about things," he muttered. "Elsa," he said firmly, "we may be able to manipulate the cold, but that doesn't mean _we _are cold ourselves. We feel things—it's what makes us alive. To try and strip yourself of those emotions only makes it worse."

Elsa shook her head, eyes filled with tears. "But what am I supposed to do? If I give in, if I can't control my emotions—I can't control my powers!"

"Elsa," Jack said gently, taking her hands, "even when you try and suppress your feelings, your powers still aren't concealed, right?"

Reluctantly, Elsa nodded.

"Maybe now it's time to try something else," he said with a smile.

And with an answering smile, she nodded again.

Elsa loved it when Jack came to her window. They would stay up all night, playing and laughing. Jack would devise games and exercises, usually on the spot, to teach her how to manipulate and control her powers, and Elsa would learn how to craft gorgeous structures, elegant designs, and lifelike creatures.

"This is so great," Elsa would giggle as she created a miniature ice castle for her dolls to play in.

"Doesn't it feel good?" Jack would coax, crafting a lily flower made from ice and handing it to Elsa, who blushed and took it with a smile. "To let go, to do as you please?"

"Yes," gushed Elsa, inordinately pleased with his gift. "But, Jack, I still haven't learned how to—I still can't conceal them."

Jack bit his lip. Crouching at her eye level, he took her hands, as he always tended to do when she felt anxious. He seemed to know that physical contact—what she got so little of, from either of her parents—was what she really wanted and needed when upset.

"That will come," he told her. "In time. I think it's hard right now because your powers are still growing. Once you come into all of them, you'll know what you're working with and then we can go from there. Right now, it's good to exercise your powers, to manipulate them—that way, even if you can't _conceal_ your powers, you can _control _them."

"What if I hurt someone?" Whispered Elsa. "What if they all think I'm some sort of… monster?"

Jack scowled. "That's your parents talking, Elsa," he said. "That's your fear talking." Jack stood up in frustration, marching to the window, raking his hands through his white-blond hair. "I wish they wouldn't keep you here," he said, gazing up at the moon. "You should be out there, with your people, getting to know them, letting them get to know you."

"What if they don't like me?" Elsa said, biting her lip.

Jack whirled around, coming back beside her and taking her hands again. "Elsa," he said, with a wonderful smile. The moonlight was filtering in behind him, illuminating his outline, and Elsa never forgot that moment as long as she lived. "How could they not? To know you is to love you."

**4.**

The ten years that passed were like an ocean's wave for Elsa, rolling, and she knew great highs and great lows as she grew up.

It was hard to keep Jack's words, precious as they were, in her mind, especially since she never saw him as often as she liked. Sometimes he would come two or three times a week, other times he would stay away for months at a time.

He had other responsibilities, since he was responsible for children and for winter all over the world, even between other universes, and Elsa accepted this, too shy and grateful to demand more of his time.

But it was hard—and the time after his visits Elsa would do as he said, working at manipulation, at creation, to ensure that, even if she couldn't conceal her powers—growing stronger every day—she could at least control them. But when he stayed away for a long time, she felt her parents' words creeping back in, their expectations, their daily demands at an update. They didn't know about Jack, and Elsa knew instinctively that to tell them meant that they would do everything in their power to make sure he couldn't come back, from posting guards at her window to locking her away in a different tower.

To be sure, her parents weren't cruel people, or even terribly unreasonable. They were just afraid, and well-intentioned, though that road was paved with black ice and blue fire. Elsa knew they loved her—but they feared her, more.

So she worked at concealing, too, at not feeling, but those resolutions were immediately forgotten when Jack woke her at her windowsill, the moonlight filtering in behind him, and they would always pick off where they left off, giggling and playing.

Elsa's favorite night was her seventeenth birthday, when Jack flew in and woke her up, having turned her room into its usual winter wonderland, but her floor was completely frozen, like a pond, and Jack magicked a thin blade of ice onto the bottoms of their shoes so they could skate.

Elsa, for all of her magic, had not skated before, and Jack took delight in teaching her, grasping her hands and skating backwards until she was able to manage it, but even then they still held on to each other, seemingly unable to be apart. It was easier to manage, now, too, now that Jack didn't have to bend so far down to reach Elsa: she was much closer to Jack's height, though her willowy form would never be as tall as his lanky, lean one.

They giggled and twirled and Elsa wished, fervently, that things would stay like this forever, a pang in her breast as she thought of Anna, too, wishing she could meet Jack, wishing they could have grown up together.

She caught Jack's eye and he winked at her. At least she had him, she thought. At least they had each other.

**5. **

Her parents were dead. Her parents were dead and she couldn't move. It was like she was a statue, a figurine of ice that she and Jack always made together, frozen.

She could hear Anna banging at the door, day and night, crying for her. Wondering where she'd been.

Elsa couldn't answer, she never answered. Instead, she sat with her back to the door, her powers long out of control, her room a barren, frozen wasteland.

She didn't know how he knew, but the day after her parents' funeral, Jack came to her.

"Elsa."

Huddled against the door, Elsa's eyes cracked open. "Jack?" She hadn't seen him in a few months, had nearly forgotten all about him in her current misery.

Like he did when she was a child, Jack crept over cautiously to her. "I heard about your parents," he said lowly. "I'm so sorry, Elsa."

Elsa nodded and let him take her hands in his as he crouched before her. She was so tired.

"I can't do this, Jack," she whispered. "I can't be queen. I'm such—I'm such a _mess_. I don't have the first clue as to what to do."

Jack didn't answer her for a long moment, and then he did something he had never done before: he leaned his forehead against hers. Elsa's eyes shot open. They were nearly the same height now, though he still had to lean down just a bit. His eyes were so clear and bright as they looked into hers.

"Elsa," he murmured fervently. "I believe in you. You will make such a wonderful queen. You just need to let it all go—your fears, your hesitations. Let them see who you really are, and they will love you."

Elsa let out an anguished sob. "I can't," she whispered, closing her eyes, thinking of her baby sister motionless on the ground, of the ice that crept into her brain.

Jack laid his hand, cool, on her cheek and her eyes flew open again. She gasped at the contact, as his fingers brushed over her cheek and neck.

"Elsa," he whispered urgently.

They held each other's gazes for what seemed to be a single moment, suspended and frozen in time. Elsa wondered what would happen if he tilted his head just so, and if she closed her eyes and leaned-

But then the door banged, and Elsa wrenched away from Jack as they both stood, on shaky legs.

"Elsa?" Called Anna. "Elsa, are you in there?" Elsa didn't answer. "I—people have been wondering where you've been. Why won't you come out? I miss them, too, Elsa, I just want you here with me."

Elsa didn't answer, aware of Jack's incredulous gaze on her as she remained silent.

"I had to bury them _alone_, Elsa!" Sobbed Anna. "I _need _you. Please, come out! Please."

"I'm sorry, Anna," Elsa finally whispered, tears running down her face. "I'm sorry."

Anna was silent for a moment. "I am, too," she said, her voice cracking, and then they heard her soft footsteps walking away from the door.

A long moment passed.

"Does she always call for you?" Jack said, his voice too calm for Elsa's liking.

"What?" She said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"That girl. Is that… your sister?"

"Yes," Elsa said, clearing her throat. "That's Anna."

"Does she always call for you?"

"Sometimes," Elsa said vaguely, avoiding his eyes, her residual sense of guilt concerning Anna creeping back in. "When we were younger she would a lot. She doesn't so much anymore."

She had told Jack, several years back, about the incident with Anna, and how her memory was cleared of Elsa's powers. Jack had been enraged at the deception, at her parents' callousness in separating their daughters, but he restrained himself. He knew it wasn't easy for Elsa, either, and that she had little control over it.

"Do you ever answer her?" Jack asked lowly, his voice sounding more gravelly and like a man's than Elsa had ever heard.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Do you ever answer her?" His silvery blue eyes, trained intently on her, looked more serious than she had ever seen them.

"I… yes," She stiffened, wary of him.

"She's lonely," Jack deduced, his eyes looking at the door, through the door, as though he could see Anna herself on the other side. "She's incredibly lonely." He looked back to Elsa. "Why don't you go to her?"

For the first time, Elsa felt angry at his pity, his sympathy towards Anna and how he seemed to have none for Elsa. "Lonely?" She said, jumping up, her hands curled into fists. "She's _lonely_? At least she's had our parents, the servants—at least she could go out into the world if she wanted and be normal!"

Jack shook his head, and his long bangs swung like icicles. "You're wrong," he said. "She's been just as alone as you have, and worse, she doesn't even know why she's alone—for all she knows, she thinks you hate her, I'm sure!"

Elsa flushed, her cheeks reddening, almost unnaturally, with color. "That's not my fault!" She said. "It's not, and you know it."

"No, it's not your fault," Jack spat. "It was your parents' fault, for they thought of nothing but themselves and their own reputations to understand the damage they were inflicting upon their children."

"Don't you talk about my parents," Elsa seethed, "they're _dead!_ There. Are you happy now? My parents are dead, and I'm to be queen—but for what—" She gestured angrily about the room. "I'm not any closer to controlling and concealing my powers than I was when I first met you! And they're only getting worse, getting stronger. What am I supposed to do now?" She realized, to her horror, how ungrateful she sounded, as though she was blaming _him _for her lack of control.

To her surprise, Jack sighed, his anger deflating. He came closer to Elsa, cautiously, and took her hands in his. "I'm so sorry about your parents," he said again, thinking of his own parents, long dead, of his baby sister, of his love for her, of his sacrifice. "Elsa, I am. But—maybe you can become close with Anna again. Confide in her. Trust her. Come together as you should have, long ago."

Anna snatched her hands from Jack's. "And what? Hurt her again? No, Jack, I can't do that."

Jack's eyes were sad as he looked at her. "You can't live life alone, Elsa," he said. "We might be able to manipulate the cold, but _we _are not cold." He looked at her intently. "We're meant to live with other people. It's what makes us alive."

"You don't understand, Jack," Elsa said, nearly flinching at his purposeful, familiar words. "You've never known of sacrifice! Of being alone. You've only thought of yourself for all these years."

Jack thought of his baby sister, of his Guardians. He regretted now how he had never confided in Elsa about his past now—although, to be fair, she had never asked. "You don't know me as well as you think you do, Elsa," he said softly, his eyes shuttered, expression cold. "And I hope, for yours and Anna's sakes, that you never have to make the sacrifices I do."

And with that, he nudged open her window with his staff, and left.

Elsa knew now, without a doubt, that she was completely, utterly alone.

**6.**

She wished for him the night before her coronation, when she was at her lowest; she wished for him the night after, in her newly constructed ice castle (a larger replica of one she had built when she was younger), when she was feeling her most free; she wished for him when Anna came and she chased her out; she wished for him fiercely when she was in prison, and even more fiercely the night she and Anna were nearly killed, and then when she was freed by Anna's love.

But he did not come, nor did he for the months after that. Elsa felt this with a heavy, numbed, heart, knowing it was all her fault, accepting the pain and guilt that she so rightly deserved.

Despite this, for the most part, Elsa was happy. With Anna's love and acceptance, Elsa was finally able to love and accept herself. Jack was right—about everything. And more than anything, she wished she was able to tell him that, to apologize and set things right, at the very least.

But really, she just missed him.

000

She told Anna about him, because how could she not? They had already wasted so much time apart, and they didn't want any secrets between them.

Anna's eyes grew contemplative as she watched her sister tell her about Jack. "He was important to you," she said softly. "You… you loved him?"

Elsa turned away, covering her mouth with her hand. After a long moment, she swallowed and said, "No. I don't think I really knew him enough to have loved him." She thought of the look in his eyes when she accused him of never knowing sacrifice, envious of his selfishness and independence. She knew she was wrong about him the instant that he left her. She didn't trust him or his opinion or believe in him. That wasn't love.

But Anna, with her large heart and innocent eyes, said, with a self-deprecating grin but wise eyes, "I don't think you have to know a person's every secret to love them." She looked at her sister meaningfully.

Elsa thought of him—his straight, lean figure; his affectionate, laughing blue eyes; his strong, long-fingered hands and the way they grasped hers; she thought of his smile and his dedication. She blushed before she could help herself.

Anna saw all this and made a choice in that instant. She bit her lip and then held out her hand. "Come with me," she said. "I found something last week, and perhaps it was selfish of me, but I wanted to—to peruse it completely before showing it to you."

Elsa was wary, but she trusted Anna. She put her hand in hers and squeezed. "All right," she said.

Anna led her to their father's study, a room where he often met with his advisers and conducted his own personal business. Anna went over to the desk and opened one of the drawers, taking out all of the papers and setting them on the desk and then she slid open the drawer's bottom.

"A secret compartment," breathed Elsa. "But what—?"

Anna pulled out a leather bound book. "Papa's journal," Anna said. "When you were telling me about Jack, I—I realized I had heard a similar story before. He wrote this with you in mind, and I'm sorry I read it before you, but—"

"Anna." Elsa held up a hand. "It's okay. No more secrets, remember?"

Anna gave her a peculiar smile, her eyes darting back to the journal. "No more secrets."

**7.**

Her father was a Guardian. Elsa nearly dropped the journal when she found out. A Guardian… that was what Jack was. She remembered him telling her about his life a few months after he started coming to her window, when she was a little older and able to better understand his complicated life.

Jack's influence in this world was more subtle than in other worlds (apparently there were other worlds, too—some where everyone had magic, and some where no one did) but he helped to create and maintain winter in them all.

And once, before Jack, that had been her father's job as well. He was picked by the Man in the Moon—the very same man he had told her about in his stories to her as a child. He was known as Hodur, God of Winter, for many centuries. A young man, a few years older than Jack, perhaps, he stayed that way for many years, assisting the other Guardians in protecting the worlds and all of their children for centuries.

He didn't know how or why he was picked. He didn't know his life before his job. All their father knew was that one day, while he was spreading the first frost of fall in Arendelle he came across the most beautiful girl he had ever seen—the princess, Anna and Elsa's mother. He fell in love with her immediately, but knew as a Guardian that he could never have her, no matter how often and long he wished to the Man in the Moon. So he left her, but he never forgot her.

But his love had an unforeseen consequence. Over the next few months, Hodur noticed that his magic didn't come to him as easily. He couldn't fly as often or as far. And he felt taller, he noticed lines around his eyes that hadn't been there. Something happened to him that he never could do before—he grew a beard.

He went to his fellow Guardian, North, about his problems, explaining everything that had happened.

North, aged and wise, crinkled his eyes in that way he often did. They had a twinkle, though they were sad. "Hodur," he said, "you're growing up."

Hodur was dumbfounded. "Growing up?" He asked.

"You fell in love," North said, spreading his hands wide. "The ultimate act of growing up. The Man in the Moon could see it, and so can I." He gave his friend a sad smile. "Your time as Guardian has come to an end," he said. "It's time for a new phase in your life."

And so it came to be. Hodur had enough of his powers to fly through the worlds, back to Arendelle, and to become a mortal man, one who wooed, loved, and married the beautiful princess, never suspecting that his past would come back to haunt him in the form of his eldest daughter.

_I can't bear to tell your mother,_ he wrote in his journal. _I can't bear to tell you. I'm too ashamed by your pains. This burden is mine alone, and I hate myself for what I have thrust upon you. I cannot even help you, my dear Elsa, for as a Guardian, I never needed to have control or conceal my powers—we were one in the same. _

_I hope you can forgive your father and his selfishness, his foolishness. I cannot regret marrying your mother, or having you, but I regret my own pride. I am not blind; I see how I hurt you and Anna every day, but I know not what else to do._

_I am at a loss. I have no way of contacting my former Guardians—the Man in the Moon showed me that their memories of me would be eliminated once I became mortal. And the Man in the Moon has long stopped listening to me. But maybe he will listen to you. I hope he does. _

Elsa found herself gasping, shaking, crying at this news, and found herself clinging to Anna, who stayed with her as she read, who wrapped her arms around Elsa's quaking shoulders.

"Poor Papa," Elsa whispered. "He suffered so much. We all did."

"But we're not suffering anymore," Anna said, pressing a kiss to Elsa's hair. "We're whole now."

Outwardly Elsa agreed with her, but inwardly she knew it wasn't true for her. Not yet.

**8.**

It was the winter solstice, her first one as Queen, exactly six months since summer solstice and her coronation.

Although she could have moved her quarters from her childhood one to the larger one of her parents, Elsa chose to stay put. She still felt, at many times, she was still a young girl with much to learn—and she was alone. Her parents' quarters felt too big for just one person.

She went to the Man in the Moon, something she had not done in many months, and made one last wish with a sad smile, "I just want him to be happy, always."

And with that, she went to bed, and if her room was a little cooler, and her pillow a bit wet, then so be it.

But a pattern, faint, but no less lovely, curled and etched into her window. The winter breeze didn't open the windows, but it rattled the latch, and a hand, large and white, with long fingers, unlatched it itself.

A tall figure came through the window, quietly, on its own, with no staff or bow or stick to be seen. Though lean, its shoulders were broad, tapered into a narrow waist. The sweater it wore was blue and faded, but the pants, black and long, were very much new, and though the figure was uncomfortable in its equally new shoes, it was too cold now to go without, much to its dismay.

The figure came quietly to the bed and stopped when he saw her father's journal, at the nightstand, opened to a particular page. Curiously, he leaned down and read a few of the pages, stilling in shock towards the end.

After a long moment, he shut the journal softly. His heart beat fast and his hands shook, but this new knowledge did not deter him, but rather strengthened him. Leaning down to Elsa, he whispered, "Elsa. Elsa, wake up."

Elsa chuckled. "Snow man tomorrow, Anna, I promise."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea," the figure murmured, a smile curving its lips, "would you mind terribly if I joined you?"

Elsa gasped, bolting awake and springing up, narrowly missing the figure who sat at the edge her bed. "Jack," she said.

"Elsa," said Jack, his crystal blue eyes smiling into hers.

She couldn't help it, the self-proclaimed ice queen herself broke her composure and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he, grinning, wound his arms around her as well. It felt good to hold her.

"You're here," Elsa whispered. "You came back to me."

Jack pulled back. "Of course I did," he said. "It took me a while, but I'm here." He looked at her seriously. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here when you needed me the most—you know I would have if I could've been. Pitch—have I told you about Pitch? Well, he was causing trouble again in one of the worlds." As an apology, he pulled from behind his back a beautiful, icy lily flower. Flushing, she took it, placing it reverently on her bedside table, her eyes growing soft as she remembered the first he ever gave her.

"It's all right," Elsa said softly, turning back to him. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in every detail, but she frowned as she took him in.

There were little lines around his eyes—probably because he smiled so much, she thought. His shoulders—were they always so broad? And his face. Without thinking, she brought her fingers to brush along his jaw line. White blonde stubble, something he never had before.

Her eyes flew to his as she drew a sharp breath in. He bore her scrutiny well, his eyes tracing over her features as well. "Jack," she breathed. She thought of her father.

"Hmm?" He asked, amusement in his eyes. He smiled at her tenderly.

She tried again. "Jack," she said. "Are you…?"

He grabbed her hands in his, and they felt warm—too warm for an immortal godling. "I think you know the answer to that question," he said softly, his eyes darting over to the journal and back.

Elsa raised her eyebrow at him archly, at his nosiness, but inwardly she was a mess inside. She felt hope and joy bubbling within her, and yet she couldn't give herself to happiness just yet—no, Elsa of Arendelle wasn't built for that sort of easy belief. "Are you sure?" She said. "Quite sure?" And she wasn't asking if he knew of his own mortality now—no: she was asking if this is what he wanted.

He squeezed her hands and it was as if he was bringing her to life himself. "Elsa," he said with a smile, so full of love and light. "To know you is to love you."

And with that, he released her hands, and cupping her face, kissed her, showing Elsa the truth of his words. She brought her hands up to his face, his neck, winding them in his long locks, and knew that _this _was her letting go, that this connection to him was the greatest freedom she had ever known, that with both him and Anna by her side, she never needed to be alone again. She was whole now. Complete.

The next day, Elsa heard something quite strange: the townspeople could not sleep the night before due to the strength of the moon's light, so bright and full was it that it was as though the sun itself was shining upon them. That very night, Elsa bid farewell to her friend the Man in the Moon, thanking him for all that he had done, for listening to her and guiding her when she needed it most, for giving her two of the most important men in her life.

And as he always did, the Man in the Moon heard her, and tonight, he smiled.


End file.
